The Flaws in Our Sky
by ilikehats2
Summary: AU* Upon diagnoses Pepper Potts' final chapters had been written. But the introduction of her funny plot twist, Tony Stark, rewrites it with love and unforgettable friends. Based off of The Fault in Our Stars
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Fault In Our Stars **_**nor do I own Avengers. I own the idea, or my variation of this idea because for all I know someone else had published something similar. **

**I owe a ThankYou Agent Tex's Friend. She helped me brainstorm, especially deciding on Natasha's, well I don't know how to describe it because I don't want to call it a disorder or disability, uniqueness to the group. I also need to thank John Green for writing TFIOS! **

**Please Enjoy this. Let the record show though that this is an AU, so defining moments in their lives like Clint and the circus or Bruce and his dad. The only exception will be Tony arguably. But we'll get to that when we get to that.**

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><p>In the fall of what should be my senior year, my mother and father had decided that I was depressed which I totally disagree with. Whenever you read a cancer pamphlet or a website they list depression as a side affect of the horrible, uncontrollable, malignant mutation occurring in your cells. However, I like to argue that depression is not a side affect of cancer, it is a side affect of dying. I would also like to argue that just because I mostly stay home in bed, rarely explore the outside world, eat infrequently and read the same book more times than a normal teenager should does not mean I am depressed.<p>

But, my arguments fell on deaf ears and my mother brought me to my normal pediatrician Dr. James who completely agreed with my mom's self diagnoses and decided that not only should my meds be adjusted but I should participate in a weekly support group.

Which is where I am now, one of the most boring and depressing places in all of New York, support group. I did everything I could to keep my parents from sending me, tonight's latest excuse was completely reasonable:

_"Pepper darling, you should be getting ready for support group," My mother was hovering over me as I lounged on the couch quite casually. I had the remote in my lap and was binge watching reruns of SharkTank _

_"Mom, firstly, how many times have I told you to call me Virginia, not Pepper?"_

_"I don't know darling," She responded softly, a hint of exaggeration in her voice. I rolled my eyes quietly._

_"Secondly, why can't I just stay home and watch SharkTank?" _

_"Pepper-"_

_"Virginia," I interrupt, voice crisp._

_"Virginia darling, you need to live life like an actual teenager."_

_"If you want me to live life like an actual teenager you should get me a fake ID so I can go into clubs and take pot, not send me to support group,"_

_"Darling you don't take pot," My dad interrupted._

_"And I would learn that if I had a fake ID, I could go hang out with classmates!" _

_"You're going, so go and get dressed."_

Support group is full of a rotating cast of cancer patients both sick and in remission. We meet every Wednesday from 6:15 to 7:30, a full hour and fifteen minutes trapped in the basement of The Graceful and Benevolent Lady Mary's Church. So when my mom dropped me off outside the church, only five minutes early, I tried to stall, fingering my cannula. It was this little plastic tube that went up parallel to my chest before splitting off into two separate directions at the base of my neck, wrapping behind my ears and then joining together at my nose, bringing pure sweet oxygen into my lungs.

"Do you want me to walk you in?"

"No, it's ok," I tell her, seeing some people already walking to the front door. I start opening the car door, carefully placing my oxygen tank and its cart to the ground, giving my mom a smile, "I'll see you later."

"Try to make some friends Pepper!" She shouted, earning an eye roll from me as I approached the door, opening it. I glance at the elevator on the parallel wall to the doors but take advantage of the stairs instead. Even though my lungs are working harder to get in air for this simple task, taking the elevator is a 'Last Days' privilege.

Upon entering the basement, I take a glance around the room to see the same cast of characters as last week. Most are huddled around or near the poor display of food which consists of room temperature lemonade and soft cookies purchased from the super market. I decided against joining the masses and instead take a seat in one of the small, plastic blue chairs that came from the the Church's preschool.

This was one of the things I despised about support group, it's not bad enough some of us are actually dying or that we're in the possible future of being NEC forever (No Evidence of Cancer for you healthy people with no connections to cancer patients and our shortcuts) is that the church can't spare the actual chapel or a library for us to meet in. It's not like we can be anymore depressed meeting in a crappy old basement, sitting in tiny chairs and eating on snacks I can practically claim as indecent. We don't need anything fancy or expensive, but I find it a bit hypocritical for an institution such as this to preach about donating time and money towards cancer patients and to our treatments and families but when the church has the opportunity to support a group meant to help cancer patients they stick us in the basement.

And to think I could be home right now, lounging on the couch in my pajamas and watching Shark Tank but I was still here. I was entirely confident that this would be like any ordinary youth group meeting, the same boring routine.

_But I won't deny that I was glad there was something different about todays. _

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><p><strong>Ok, that ends the first chapter. I won't deny, there may be spoilers of The Fault in Our Stars but that shouldn't be a problem, it's not like I'm telling you all who actually dies in that book. This is just based off the book :D <strong>

**Please review! Tell me what you think! I had contemplated doing Natasha and Clint, but Pepper was so much more ideal and stuck out to me more. But don't worry, everyone will show up. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Fault In Our Stars **_**nor do I own Avengers. I own the idea, or my variation of this idea because for all I know someone else had published something similar. **

**I owe a ThankYou Agent Tex's Friend. She helped me brainstorm, especially deciding on Natasha's, well I don't know how to describe it because I don't want to call it a disorder or disability, uniqueness to the group. I also need to thank John Green for writing TFIOS! **

**Please Enjoy this. Let the record show though that this is an AU, so defining moments in their lives like Clint and the circus or Bruce and his dad. The only exception will be Tony arguably. But we'll get to that when we get to that.**

* * *

><p>Support group was led by Mr. Coulson, a kind man of maybe fifty years old with light brown hair. Every week Mr. Coulson would take a seat in the circle wearing a neat white dress shirt and dark colored trousers, sometimes wearing a suit jacket over it, and his slightly receding hair combed back. Every week Mr. Coulson would enlighten us with his life story about cancer, telling us how he was diagnosed with his cancer and that him and his entire family believed he was going to die. Except he didn't die, only lost his nuts and now here he was as an adult, in a happy relationship with his cellist girlfriend and living a successful and meaningful existence on the planet. AND YOU CAN TOO!<p>

Its not that Mr. Coulson was a horrible guy, that he was a bragger or a show off but he was just too peppy for us. Comparatively, Mr. Coulson is so full of optimism and life compared to us, and he serves as a painful reminder that most of us will never experience a happy, fulfilling life like him.

So, while Mr. Coulson began to talk about his experience and attempt to show us that opening up wasn't a horrible idea, I took in the realization that a boy was staring at me. At first, I pretended to not notice, hoping that he would eventually look away. But then I quietly realized that he wasn't going to stop staring at me and felt I should make him feel as uncomfortable as he was making me. All it did was make him flash a cocky smile and I had to not only keep staring at him but fight the flustering warmth trying to turn my cheeks a rosy color.

I didn't recognize the boy, his dark black hair was down, parted to the right. Some of it was hanging slightly over his left eyebrow, yet was no where close to covering one of his brown eyes. He continued to smile at me with that cocky grin, flashing his straight white teeth. He was sitting in the chair backwards, his arms draped over the back of the chair, acting rather carefree. The more I stared at him, the more cocky he seemed to grow, paralleling my growing discomfort until I turned away, brought back to the present when Mr. Coulson started introductions. I looked back, to see an eyebrow quirked up, giving off a taunting 'I win'.

"Bruce, why don't you start today? We haven't seen in you two weeks," Mr. Coulson always noticed when people suddenly stopped attending temporarily, and wanted to make sure they were addressed and given immediate support.

As Bruce stood, all of us turned our attention to him except the mysterious dark haired boy. As Bruce cleared his throat I noticed quietly that his light brown hair was purposely combed to cover his forehead, his wire framed glasses slightly reflecting the ceiling lights. He had suddenly stopped coming for two weeks, which I will admit had me concerned because his name wasn't tact onto our deceased list. Bruce and I were little more than acquaintances who communicated throughout the entire meeting in near silent sighs to express our boredom.

"My name is Bruce..." His voice was tentative, his eyes flickering around the room nervously, "I'm sixteen years old and I'm doing ok I guess, I had surgery two weeks ago which removed the tumor in my frontal lobe and now I'm just taking meds to ensure that I really am NEC."

"Congratulation Bruce," Mr. Coulson praised.

Bruce nodded quietly, "Thanks, but I've been exhibiting serious anger issues that I'm not proud of. I tend to lose control and handle my anger in a way society wouldn't dictate as appropriate. Luckily though, I have friends like Tony to support me and confide in," The mysterious boy now had a name, he waved to the group with a smile.

One by one everyone took their turn, discussing their victories and fears. I sat silently, letting other people comfort the emotionally distraught until it was my turn. I looked around at everyone, clearing my throat as I stood.

"My name is Virginia Potts-"

"I thought it was Pepper," Tony interrupted, drat, he heard my mom shout it outside.

"I prefer Virginia, only my parents call me that much to my distaste," I say, tone turning bitter.

"I prefer Pepper."

"Tony, please, Virginia can call herself whatever she wishes, let's respect that," Mr. Coulson interrupted, glancing at me, "Please continue."

I give a very quiet nod, "I'm seventeen years old, thyroid cancer with mets in the lungs. I'm doing ok."

The introductions moved along until they stopped at Tony. Tony smiled, exposing his tall yet skinny posture, "I'm Tony, seventeen years old, never had cancer I have a heart issue. I'm just here to support my buddy Bruce."

"Well then," Mr. Coulson began to clear his throat, "Today we were going to discuss fears with the group, perhaps you'd like to share what your fears are."

"My fears?" Tony returned to his seat, his hand resting on his chin and giving him a philosophical appearance. For a moment I thought he was going to say something ridiculous, seeing the mirth of mischievous dance softly in his eyes but he managed to surprise me, "Being forgotten. I fear it like a proverbial deaf man fears silence."

At that, Bruce shook his head softly, smiling. I assumed it was an inside joke, since the reference was usually a proverbial blind man and darkness. For a moment we all stared at him, waiting for him to continue because he looked so ready to continue but he left us there in silence.

"Would anyone like to respond to that?"

Under normal circumstances I would just sit there, reminding my lungs to work and filter in oxygen while someone healthier or sicker than me would give their two cents about the topic. But Tony's fear seemed so stupid, so ridiculous that I couldn't help but raise my hand and address it. Mr. Coulson smiled, obviously assuming that I was opening up and partaking in the group discussion.

"Virginia," You could just hear the smile in his voice and I quietly turned to address Tony. He turned, looking at me with an expression of total boredom and neutral interest in what I had to say. But even under that, just by looking at him I got this strong sense from him, one that pegged him as a bragging playboy.

"There was a time when human kind didn't have the consciousness or the brain power to remember anything. And there will come a time when human kind has been obliterated and no one will be around to remember events such as the Holocaust or people like Shakespeare. In between then and now will be nothing but a series of miscommunications that will result in the lost of important information for generations at a time. It will not matter at some point how beloved you were, if you make it in history text books will only provide the readers a biased short opinion on you depicting you as a horrible person or a great one. And even then, when the sun burns out and all life as we know it seizes to exist, when consciousness and intelligence no longer exist on this planet, there will be nothing to remember anything great, let alone you. I suggest you ignore, because heaven knows that's what the rest of us do."

I leaned back, quite impressed with my answer and look at Tony. He looked at me, smiling at that answer with a genuine smile, actually interested and surprised by what I actually said. My own smugness dissipated, that wasn't my intended result. But one good thing came from me addressing that, for the rest of the meeting, neither Tony or I spoke a single word.

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><p><strong>This is where I leave you. If I keep writing to the very end of the meeting I'm going to have written myself a rut of writers block I'll never recover from. I'm so glad everyone likes it, don't worry, you'll see how Bruce deals with his anger later. As for Tony and Pepper, well, what do you all think of their relationship? <strong>

**:D Please review. Thank you to those who have already started to follow and favorite it. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Fault In Our Stars **_**nor do I own Avengers. I own the idea, or my variation of this idea because for all I know someone else had published something similar. **

**I owe a ThankYou Agent Tex's Friend. She helped me brainstorm, especially deciding on Natasha's, well I don't know how to describe it because I don't want to call it a disorder or disability, uniqueness to the group. I also need to thank John Green for writing TFIOS! **

**Please Enjoy this. Let the record show though that this is an AU, so defining moments in their lives like Clint and the circus or Bruce and his dad. The only exception will be Tony arguably. But we'll get to that when we get to that.**

* * *

><p>As support group drew to a close, Mr. Coulson began to read off an endless list of fellow cancer patients who had not survived their bodily wars. As the list got longer and longer, more people began to zone out, including myself who zoned out after the fifth name. But Tony looked over at Mr. Coulson, trying to absorb it all in like a sponge. I didn't quite understand what had him so fascinated about it, he probably won't remember any of those names in an hour, so why is he paying so much attention?<p>

As the last name was read around, Mr. Coulson wished us good night and how he couldn't wait to see everyone again next weeks before everyone started to get up. Most kids immediately went up the stairs, crowding it, while other kids decided to eat the leftover cookies and chug the leftover lemonade first. I was one of those kids who made their way out of the basement, taking the stairs again, and unfortunately Bruce and Tony were cramping up the stairs right in front it me, quietly talking.

"She's a regular?" Tony whispered, which wasn't really hard to hear, I was practically stepping over his heals.

"As far as I know yeah," Bruce looked at Tony, the black haired boy was only a few inches taller than Bruce. Tony looked at me again, just as Bruce asked him why he cared so much.

"No reason..." Tony says, I could hear that cocky smile in his voice. Did he ever get tired of using it? As we quietly reached the top of the stairs, Bruce immediately headed towards this girl waiting by the doors.

"Betty's here, sorry Tony but I got plans today," Bruce whispered before walking over.

Betty was rather pretty, with long dark brown hair that reached past her shoulders and practically flawless Caucasian skin. She was wearing what appeared to be brand new denim skinny jeans, along with a long sleeve dark grey shirt with a matching pink scarf (not wool, a thinner material) wrapped fashionably around her neck and long sleeved pink trench coat. She had lighter grey, high heel boots with a matching purse draped over her shoulder. The most startling, attention grabbing thing about her though was her grey eyes, they reminded me of aluminum. As Bruce approached her, she hooked her arm through his, using the other hand to play with his hair.

I turned quietly, pushing the door open so I could wait outside. Unfortunately, Tony followed me outside, apparently with the same idea in his head, and he stood practically side by side to me except for maybe a foot and a half of space between us. I immediately noticed that mom wasn't here waiting for me, which was extremely unusual because she was always waiting, practically my shadow. And the longer I stood there, beside Tony, the more uncomfortable I got. We were like total opposites, while he wore a long sleeved black shirt and casual yet near jeans with sneakers, I feel like I hardly made an effort with my dark red tshirt, advertising a singer I didn't even know. Unlike his jeans, mine were suppose to be form fitting but sagged and required a belt to keep them in place. While his dark hair was combed nicely, my strawberry blonde hair was a subtle yet obvious mess that resembled bed head. The more I stood by him, the more I continued to compare myself to him.

I quietly glanced around, wondering if mom was just around the corner. As I scan the parking lot, I still see Bruce and Betty inside, Betty still stroking his hair. I didn't know what they were saying, but I could see Bruce's lips moving. Suddenly, Tony glanced at me, and it was for one split second we made eye contact. He smiled, "That's they're thing, saying 'Always' to one another... Like they'll always love each other and always be there for one another, and Betty will play with his hair and run her hands through it..."

"You'd think she was petting him like he was a dog," I whispered, before looking down, realizing that maybe I shouldn't be bitching about his best friend's girlfriend, to be fair I really didn't want to be talking to him. But Tony just chuckled and smiled.

"Oh so true, but I think it's got a calming effect on him. I mean, he's not a big person for human affection through contact like that, and yet he isn't snapping at her for doing it. I don't know, maybe it reminds him of happier times before his surgery," Tony shrugged, reaching into his back pocket. He gave me a smile before he took a flask, opened it and then brought it to his lips.

"You disgusting, self centered, inconsiderate bacchanalian!" I smacked him hard in the arm, hoping I inflicted the same amount of pain in his arm as I felt across my hand if not worse, "I can't believe of all the awful things you are, you can make the most intolerable decision to not only drink, but to carry it around with you like your Bacchus himself and drink it anywhere you want, especially at a church. I can't believe you can't sit in a church for an hour or so, without that in your back pocket while you sit there to support your friend! It's just inexcusable!"

I stopped my scolding, only due to the ache in my lungs that told me I was exhaling far more than I was inhaling. As I took in deep breaths, reminding my crappy lungs to work, Tony just looked at me with an amused grin on his face, "A bacchanalian?"

"A drunkard..." I exhaled, glaring up at him angrily. How could he stand here like this? Thinking he was the king of the world? It was insufferable. Horribly insufferable, and thankfully before he can respond, two honks sound out from in front of us, signaling that both of our rides were here.

Without so much as a farewell or any glance back at him, I make my way to my mom's silver 2004 Honda Odessey Minivan, opening the passenger side of the door. However, as the door stops swinging open, and my hand still stays to the handle, a hand grasps around my other wrist. I turn, looking at my hand, still holding the oxygen cart and then at Tony, who gently pried my hand off the cart for a moment, looking totally serious as he held my hand in the two of his.

"It's a metaphor," Tony says, squeezing my hand just as his ride beeped their horn again. Then, he turned and left without another word leaving me standing there with what must be a stupid look on my face. I quietly climb into the car, pulling the oxygen cart in, looking down at my hand. There was a tiny slip of paper, folded up in the palm of my hand and as I opened it, my mom began to ask who that was as she pulled onto the main road.

"No one," I say, staring down at the ten digit number for just a moment, then fold it back up.

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><p><strong>This ends chapter three. I know, didn't go like how it went for Hazel and Augustus, but it's got to go a bit differently. :D I must thank Create for Monty, she helped me with Tony's metaphor. :D <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Fault In Our Stars **_**nor do I own Avengers. I own the idea, or my variation of this idea because for all I know someone else had published something similar. **

**I owe a ThankYou Agent Tex's Friend. She helped me brainstorm, especially deciding on Natasha's, well I don't know how to describe it because I don't want to call it a disorder or disability, uniqueness to the group. I also need to thank John Green for writing TFIOS! **

**Please Enjoy this. Let the record show though that this is an AU, so defining moments in their lives like Clint and the circus or Bruce and his dad. The only exception will be Tony arguably. But we'll get to that when we get to that.**

* * *

><p>I just couldn't get Tony out of my mind. In the following days, I spent a majority of my time thinking about Tony, but not in the conventional way. I was thinking about his metaphor, about that flask which he pretended to drink from but due to the lack of alcohol in his breath when he last spoke to me there most likely isn't any. I could care less about the boy, but the unknown metaphor just haunted me, I hated not knowing.<p>

So, late Monday morning, while I sat amongst the crowd of bored college students, listening to a lecture on the impact supply and demand had on stocks, I decided to pull out his number from my coat pocket and my phone. I stared at the piece of paper, reading the numbers, over and over again,_ (603) 447-8903. _I quietly opened up IMessage and started to enter the number, (603) 447-8903, and quietly wrote down my message.

**What's the metaphor?**

At first I was worried that maybe I should tell him who it was, thinking he won't answer a stranger, but before I do I see the little grey bubble come up with the three dots and settle a bit. Then, the message appeared

**_Where are you? _**

I scowl, taken aback by the question. Why would he care about where I was? Was this a joke? Did I make a mistake? I was about to place the phone away when a new message popped up under it

**_Pepper where are you?_**

My thumbs start tapping at the screen, my attention drawn to the object in my lap instead of the lecturer

**It's Virginia, I'm in a lecture right now at BMCC. It ends at 12.**

BMCC was Burroughs Manhattan Community College. I looked at the time on my phone, the lecture was suppose to end in fifteen minutes. I try to focus on the rest of it but the vibrating in my hand takes my attention.

**_I'll see you afterwards _**

I stared at my phone, head tilting a bit. What did that mean? See me afterwards? I tuck my phone into my pocket confused by this turn of events and decided to just focus on the rest of my lecture.

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><p>Its drizzling when I step out of the lecture hall, the fresh scent of rain prominent in the air. I see my moms car waiting at the curb, mom looking down at her lap at either paper work or a book. Tilting the oxygen tank, I quietly make my way to the car, glancing up at the gloomy sky.<p>

Halfway there though, I see Tony coming in my direction. As he came closer, I see he's wearing a dark flannel shirt and jeans, trying to catch his breath as he stopped. With his hands on his knees, hearing him take in deep breaths, I'm not sure whether to be empathetic or be envious.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as he straightens up, looking him in the eyes and hating the way his brown eyes held me.

"You asked about the metaphor," He smiled, "I was hoping you'd ask."

"Virginia," I say, annoyance in my voice, "And what do you mean you were hoping I'd ask?"

"Because there are hardly any intellectual women out there who can't help but contact the man they secretly admire due to inquisitiveness."

"Admire?" I looked at him, trying to ignore that fact that he called me intellectual, "Where do you get a stupid notion like that?"

"Stupid?" Tony looked at her, "I like to think that my romantic hypothesizes are quite accurate."

"You mean assumptions," I retaliated, looking at the dark haired boy. I crossed my arms, glowering at him with annoyance, "Are you just gonna waste my time or are you actually gonna tell me about that metaphor?"

"Ah yes," He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the liquor flask and pretended to take a drink of it, giving a smile. The rain drops catch in his hair and droplets cling to the silver surface of the empty flask. I glance back at the car, seeing my mom watching us intently.

I turn back to Tony, with a scowl of impatience on my face, "You're wasting my time with your stalling. I need to go," I turn, taking a few steps closer to the car with this nuisance following close behind me. As my hand reached for the door handle and I pulled the door open, my stomach chose that moment to let out an unladylike sound of hunger, making my face heat up.

"How about I take you out to lunch, there's this great Chinese place near here, we can go and I'll tell you all about my metaphor."

I looked at him, did he seriously think that I would ignore the previous conversation of three seconds ago and go out to lunch with him? I was about to say no, but my curiosity over the metaphor had once again gotten the better of me. I looked at him with a neutral expression, lips pressed in a thin line, before turning to my mom.

"I'll be going out to lunch with Tony."

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><p><strong>Thank you MarchingAppleJax for being my first review. AppleJax... I haven't heard or seen a commercial for that in forever. I'm so happy you like it, because I'm trying to make this original, yet at the same time share key moments between this and the book. Like the metaphor thing. <strong>

**Hopefully after chapter 5, the other Avengers will come in.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Fault In Our Stars **_**nor do I own Avengers. I own the idea, or my variation of this idea because for all I know someone else had published something similar. **

**I owe a ThankYou Agent Tex's Friend. She helped me brainstorm, especially deciding on Natasha's, well I don't know how to describe it because I don't want to call it a disorder or disability, uniqueness to the group. I also need to thank John Green for writing TFIOS! **

**Please Enjoy this. Let the record show though that this is an AU, so defining moments in their lives like Clint and the circus or Bruce and his dad. The only exception will be Tony arguably. But we'll get to that when we get to that.**

* * *

><p>We were both sitting in the back, on the dark grey leather seats as far away from each other as possible. Tony kept glancing at me, this look behind his eyes, he was wondering what I'd do next. And I don't blame him, how many girls have thrown themselves at his feet because he was Tony Stark, because he was the son of a billionaire inventor and he had the capability to buy a girl anything?<p>

I hadn't even realized I was staring at _the _Tony Stark, I still can't figure out how I didn't recognize him. Yes, Tony was a common name, but Tony Stark was the apple of every reporters eye. The entire city was well informed about Tony Stark's private life, from first being diagnosed as a mini genius to relationships to well-everything. It was only when I saw the license plate on the car and the driver did I realize who I was having lunch with. It still seemed so impossible that I didn't realize it was him, but at the same time no one else at Support Group seemed to notice, or maybe they didn't care.

So here I am sitting in a car with him, a terminally ill teenage girl with one of the smartest and riches boys her age going out to lunch. To be very honest, I didn't really pay much attention to the young Stark, I was more interested in the business not the gossip. But even I was getting a bit uncomfortable, wondering if he had planned this out as a sort of charity case to gain the love and sympathy of people so they'd buy his dad's products and invest in the stocks.

"If your looking out for the media, your wasting time," Tony's voice snapped me from my thoughts and speculation, looking at me. I still saw this look in his eyes, apprehension I think, but he had a small smile, "Sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best way to avoid the press."

I quietly nodded, understanding. The media was expecting people like the Starks to try and avoid them, going to great lengths to not get spotted. But Tony was acting like a normal person, going out in public just like Bruce or myself and he was invisible to them that way. I turned my gaze to the oxygen tank at my feet, not really sure what to say.

"This wasn't exactly how I wanted you to find out," He says, "I was gonna tell you-well-I don't know when to be honest, I thought maybe after I got to know you a bit."

"So.. You were hoping if things went right you'd tell me after lunch," I conclude, only to see Tony grin a bit.

"Something like that," He admits, looking at me. Quietly, the car pulled to the sidewalk and the driver turned to face us.

"Mr. Stark, I'll be back in at most two hours, but I must leave you both to run some errands."

"Don't sweat it," Tony says, climbing out and helping me lower my oxygen tank when it wasn't necessary. I shot him a look, lowering it to the ground myself. I don't need his help.

Tony quietly led me across the street, to a tiny little Chinese restaurant called Wang's Noodles. It was a quaint restaurant, with booths lined against the walls of the establishment. The dark brown wood was covered in a dark red velvet, with a replication of famous Chinese artwork hanging overhead. None of the pictures were the same, some were of waterfalls and others were of flowers but they were all beautiful. In the open space were round mahogany tables with either two to four chairs, the seats covered in the same red fabric as the booths. The lights were strung beautifully from the ceiling, in no way in danger of brushing the top of our heads, the bulbs covered in traditional lanterns. But my eyes fell to the floor, where the tiles painted a magnificent image of a dragon in green and orange, standing out against the dark blue background it was against. It was too beautiful and detailed to be stepped on.

A gentle pull of my hand grabbed my attention, and I turned, pulled from my observation and thoughts to follow Tony towards a small booth in the corner. It was somewhat secluded and the few people who were already there wouldn't notice us, not that they'd care about two teenagers. I hid my oxygen tank slightly underneath the table to avoid tripping anyone, looking at Tony as he sat across from me, looking down at the menu. But my eyes fell onto the painting hanging onto my right, of what looked to be in my opinion a baby panda. It clung to a tree branch, and I stared as the brush strokes carefully mimicked the cubs fur to make it more authentic. It was nearly impossibly to look away and focus on the menu in front of me.

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><p>"Good Afternoon, my name is Eric and I'll be your waiter today. Can I get you started on drinks?" He was a lean male, maybe two years older than me with auburn brown hair combed mostly over his part. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers under a white apron. His eyes followed me and then turned to Tony when he started to speak.<p>

"I'll have some Pepsi with chicken lo mein," Typical, of course he'd order a typical American beverage with a non-American meal.

The waiter nodded, turning to me for my order, "A medium ice green tea with teriyaki chicken."

"Would you like rice or vegetables with that?"

"No thank you," I hand him my menu, and watched him quietly disappear towards the kitchen. Tony smiled, looking across the room at another painting. It was a beautiful painting of koi fish, with the blue of the water concentrated at the middle coloring the pebbles. It was no doubt to give the affect of crystal clear, transparent water with about nine fish in orange and black. None of the fish were identical, they looked similar but they were each unique in their different ways and one of them had leapt from the water, breaching like a whale.

"That's one of my favorite pictures," Tony says, while I just nodded along. I quietly glanced at Tony as he looked at me with a smile, saying something entirely unexpected, "I'm giving the killing thing the illusion of killing me. But I'm not letting it."

"Excuse me?"

"The metaphor," Tony explained, taking out his flask again but only briefly, "I'm giving it the illusion that it can kill me, but not giving it the power. That's why we're here isn't it? Because of the metaphor."

I blinked at him, surprised by how deep and profound yet simple it was. The entire time I had half expected it to be a lie, or to be something totally stupid. But that-that was beautiful. But here I was now, trapped in the moment of it, of analyzing it and now we had nothing else to talk about. For a moment I thought we'd just be trapped in this void of silence, until Tony opened his big mouth.

"So what were you doing at BMCC?"

"I go to school there," I couldn't quite believe he was asking that, didn't he just see me walk our of the lecture hall? "Second year there."

The genius nodded, "Impressive, really," He seemed genuinely appraising, "Sixth year."

"Show off," I mutter, rolling my eyes at him but that just makes him smile. Does he ever not smile?

"Maybe, but is it my fault I'm a genius?" He asked with a smile.

"No..." I relented, looking up at our meal as the waiter gently placed the drinks and the food before us. I took the chopsticks in clumsy fingers, quietly thanking him before I attempted to use them and pick up some chicken. It continued to fall out between the narrow sticks, back onto the plate. Tony was trying to stiffly his laughter as he expertly used his chopsticks.

"Do you need training chop sticks?" I glared darkly at him, stabbing one of the pieced with my chopstick and held it up like a kabob.

"No," I say before taking a bite out of the chicken. I blinked, surprised by how good this was. This was the best teriyaki chicken I've ever had.

"Good right?" Tony says before taking a drink from his soda.

I nod, reaching for my iced green tea, "I'll have to hand it to you, you may be annoying but you picked a really good Chinese place."

He looked at me, somewhat coughing a bit, "Annoying? How dare you accuse me of being annoying."

"If the shoe fits wear it," I say, before finishing my first piece of teriyaki chicken.

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><p><strong>That's the end of Chapter Five. Please review, the rest of the Avengers will be coming soon. I promise. I posted a new story, finally saw the first Captain America movie, I suddenly realize that maybe I should delete my OC story Hail Hydra: Unwanted Destiny. I just have no passion to write it and it's more unreasonable than I realized. But I'd like opinions about that, should I or shouldn't I delete it? <strong>

**Please review, I'd like an opinion on the story. On this one or any of my other ones. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Fault In Our Stars **_**nor do I own Avengers. I own the idea, or my variation of this idea because for all I know someone else had published something similar. **

**I owe a ThankYou Agent Tex's Friend. She helped me brainstorm, especially deciding on Natasha's, well I don't know how to describe it because I don't want to call it a disorder or disability, uniqueness to the group. I also need to thank John Green for writing TFIOS! **

**Please Enjoy this. Let the record show though that this is an AU, so defining moments in their lives like Clint and the circus or Bruce and his dad. The only exception will be Tony arguably. But we'll get to that when we get to that.**

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><p>When I came back home, with my left over teriyaki chicken, mom was waiting for me with a big grin on her face. She hovered over me, more than usual, asking me how it went and where we went. I decided to not tell her exactly who Tony was, knowing that it might make her overreact or make the situation worse somehow.<p>

And while I won't admit it to my parents, I actually had a good time. Tony started up most of the conversation, but instead of it being about him like I was prepared for we talked about some pretty mundane yet interesting topics such as the movies. It was nice, but I haven't talked to him since his driver brought me home. And I didn't hear from him again for four days.

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><p>It was late Friday afternoon when my phone rang, it's consistent chirping was lost somewhere amongst my textbooks. Once I rescued it from between my business textbooks, I answered the call.<p>

"Virginia Potts," I answered, "How can I help you?"

_"Pepper!" _I gave a sigh at Tony, getting a bit aggravated that he continued to call me that. But before I could correct him he started to talk again, _"My friends and I are having a movie night at Bruce's. I talked to Bruce, he's super cool with it!" _

I sit there stunned for a moment, taken off guard. I glance down at all the textbooks littering my lap, "I don't know Tony, I have a test to study for..."

_"Oh come on Pepper it's Friday night!" _Tony gave off a slight exasperated whine, and I huff indignantly, getting slightly annoyed that he was showing off a hint of his expected spoiled nature. Just as I start to explain that this test is very important and I need all weekend to study, my mom enters my bedroom to ask what I'm having for dinner. She looked at me and suddenly leapt into the conversation without any warning while no doubt embarrassing me if Tony could hear her.

"Pepper," She stared at me with narrowed eyes, "You are not spending _another_ Friday night home studying your textbooks, writing a paper, or reading that same old book."

"Mom," I hissed, trying to not draw Tony's attention to this other conversation. But she ignored me, snatching the text book right off my lap.

"You're going, even if I have to drive you there in your pajamas myself!" My face turned a bit red, whether from embarrassment or indignation that she has the nerve to threaten me I wasn't sure. Just as I'm about to argue, she speaks up, "Pepper you need to go live your life!"

Live my life, I can't believe she's using that against me. I don't want to spend the rest of my time, which was still very undetermined, with a group of people I don't know. But mom looked at me, with wide pleading eyes. She just wanted the best for me, and I could hardly say no when she gave me those looks.

"Are you still there?" I asked Tony.

_"Yes," _I could hear Tony's giant smile in his voice, _"It's 24 West Sycamore Drive." _

"Alright, I'll be there soon," I quickly hung up and looked at my mom, "I'm gonna need the keys and a full oxygen tank." My mom just gave me a grin, one I'm sure matched the one Tony had when he gave me the directions. I had a feeling he overheard my mom and I but pushed that humiliating thought out of my mind. As my mom goes to get a full tank, I grab some comfortable jeans and a comfortable light blue blouse.

I almost considered changing it, not wanting to look like I put too much effort into it or look over dress, but by then my mom was already switching the oxygen tanks and I just made a point to focus on making my crap lungs work until I had the oxygen drizzling into my nose again. It didn't take that long, but those few seconds still felt rather long and agonizing. My mom watched me for a few moments, brushing my hair out for me while I caught my breath. Even after I had caught my breath she continued to brush my hair, clearly lost in flashbacks and memories of when I was younger and unable to manage my own hair. Then, she gently placed the keys in my hand and looked at me, "Just be home before 11:30."

I simply nod and make my way downstairs and to the car. This was really the first time I'd be out of the house for anything other than school since I had lunch with Tony on Monday. I didn't go to Support Group Wednesday on account that I had a paper to write and was just feeling really tired and sluggish. So, as I pull out of the driveway, I see mom waving goodbye to me with a big smile on her face.

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><p>As I pull up to 24 West Sycamore Drive, my stomach lurches a bit as I see the other cars. I see about four other cars, three of them in the drive way and one next to the sidewalk. I park behind the other car, gripping the steering wheel silently for a moment. For some odd reason, as I sit here, I have a knot in my stomach and my palms are clammy.<p>

It feels stupid, but I can't help being afraid that none of them will like me. Its such a childish thought, but ever since my diagnosis life had been about medication, treatments, and school. I had distanced myself from my old pre-diagnosis friends, I don't even remember how to start a conversation with a stranger.

Quietly, I dragged my oxygen tank out of the car and up the driveway. It takes a moment for me to get the wheels up the front steps, and by the time I get in front of the door all I want to do is just sit down. But instead of giving into the need to sit down on the steps for who knows how long, I rang the doorbell.

I could hear the footsteps running against hardwood floor a few moments before the wooden door open. However, instead of Tony like I somewhat expected, Bruce stared back at me with a smile.

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><p><strong>My apologies for the long wait. And if this gets boring or slow at any places. And if the ending seems stupid, I'm not in the best mindset finishing this. For some reason I'm just getting sick at least once in these past two weeks. <strong>

**Please review, and yeah I know I promised the avengers would appear here... But I'm afraid we need to wait for chapter seven. I know, I know... I'm disappointed as well.**


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